Rain and People
Kathryn Reynolds
To me, there are as many different kinds of rain as there are people. You may never have thought of it, or you may not agree, but I always feel a personality in the rain.
Kathryn Reynolds
To me, there are as many different kinds of rain as there are people. You may never have thought of it, or you may not agree, but I always feel a personality in the rain.
There is the miserable drizzle that come sometimes with for and seems to spread its depressing influence as freely as its dampness seeps through a watertight raincoat. This kind of rain reminds me of a poor itinerant beggar who brings a chilling reality to the animated happy being around him. Then, unexpected interrupting the calm pleasant weather at the point when we are preparing for some picnic or summer expedition, comes that blustery noisy rain with roaring thunder and flashing lightning. Haven’t you seen people like that, noisy boastful people who come breaking in on your dearly loved solitude without warning and sometimes frighten you with their noise and wildness? But often the rain is quiet and gentle as it falls on the roof on a hushes patter. At such time it is like a mother, soothing, hushing, comforting. Do you know anyone brisk, businesslike and always right? I do. There is a kind of rain to match just such people; that steady downpour which is useful to growing things and which rather coldly and heartlessly pelts down on the tender growing, green things of the earth. Finally, there are those gay sparkling drops that dance fitfully before the breeze and can never be depended on for any real use because they usually end in a lovely rainbow. These are like lively gay people who are not practical or useful, but who are often the most dearly loved.
Perhaps you can see now what I mean when I say there are as many kinds of rain as there are people.
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